


An Excerpt: Alleyway

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alley Sex, Connor is human, FBI AU, Frottage, I'm nasty, M/M, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Trans Male Character, Trans Porn by Trans People, im also a mess and wont finish the original fic, mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 06:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”“Trying to stop this perpetual panic attack I’m having.” Connor’s glare was a grimace. He stopped his hand, just on Hank’s stomach, over his vest. If Hank wanted to, he could push him away, he could stop him easily. “I - I need to know that your heart’s still beating.”A scene from a fic I've accidentally abandoned.





	An Excerpt: Alleyway

**Author's Note:**

> For context! Hank and Connor are FBI agents, Hank almost died on a mission and there's been some Sexual Tension leading to this moment
> 
> Warnings:  
\- hank smokes  
\- public indecency

Connor followed Hank outside, his stomach twisting and head a hot, indignant space. 

“You could have died, in case you've already forgotten, Anderson.” With that angry worry leading him, he reached out and dug his fingers into Hank's shoulder. 

“Oh what a fucking tragedy.” Hank laughed, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up casually. Naturally. 

Connor pulled at his arm, twisting Hank around and forcing him stumbling back into the wall of the alley. 

Hank looked angry, cigarette between his teeth. “What's your fuckin’ problem?” 

“You are! You can't seriously expect me to be okay right now? I saw it happen Anderson. You fucking idiot.” He moved forward, pressing a hand against Hank’s chest to keep him still. 

“So? Plenty of people’ve seen me nearly die. Not as if I try hard to stay alive.” Hank lifted his hand and took a deep draw of the cigarette, letting Connor hold him there. “You should stop being so attached to me.”

“Oh eat shit, Hank.” Connor glared up at him. They were almost chest to chest, the only thing stopping them from being so was Connor’s hand. Every breath he felt Hank take was a reminder, a soft thing even in this less than soft situation that told him that Hank was still alive, that Hank wasn’t going to die any time soon. But it wasn’t good enough. 

He ran his hand down Hank’s chest, over the layers - the shirts on shirts and that fucking coat that made him look like a mountain of unmoving leather - and pushed underneath. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

“Trying to stop this perpetual panic attack I’m having.” Connor’s glare was a grimace. He stopped his hand, just on Hank’s stomach, over his vest. If Hank wanted to, he could push him away, he could stop him easily. “I - I need to know that your heart’s still beating.” 

Hank looked shocked. In the dim red fluorescence of the ‘exit’ light by the bar the bags under his eyes were drawn out in a shadow, his lips were ruby and downturned.

“Can I?” Connor asked, trying to keep his voice steady for this one. He wouldn’t force this.

“Yes.” 

Hank’s hand came over Connor’s, guiding it under that last vest and up over the warmth of his stomach, over hair and skin and scars and living tissue. Connor leaned closer, sliding his forearm under the clothing, rucking up both Hank’s shirts and Connor’s sleeve. 

He reached his chest and stopped, hand pressing down hard into Hank’s flesh. Their faces were inches apart, Hank still with that fucking cigarette. 

“Those things will kill you.” Connor hissed, reaching up with his other hand and swiping it away, throwing it to the ground to burn itself out. 

“They also cost a good ten bucks a pack.” Hank was smirking. Connor wanted him to fucking stop, to take this seriously. He could feel the heartbeat now, dull but quick, pounding like Hank had been running for hours. Living.

He dug his nails into Hank’s chest as though maybe he could pull that heart out and hold it for himself, keep it close and safe and alive. Hank gasped, mouth falling open, eyes fluttering shut, hand on Connor’s elbow, holding his arm in place with clear consent.

“They’ll kill you.” 

“You’ll kill me.” Hank growled. And his mouth was on Connor’s.

It was neither a gentle nor soft kiss. Hank’s hand was in Connor’s hair and tugging, Connor biting at his lip in retaliation. It was a fight, it was Connor yelling with his body that Hank better be more fucking careful in the future. Hank tasted of tobacco; bitterness and tar over his teeth. But Connor couldn’t give less of a shit. He raked his nails down Hank’s torso, grabbing at Hank’s side and pulling him close as he pushed him back. They were together, Connor against Hank against the wall of the grimy alley and it seemed like this was exactly where they were meant to be. The air that wasn’t Hank’s breath was cold, the ground was wet, the wall was harsh as his knuckles scraped against it.

Hank yanked Connor’s shirt out of his pants, pulled his tie loose around his neck, pushed the jacket from his shoulders. Connor wasn’t willing to move his hands from Hank’s skin to let the jacket fall off completely, so it stayed hanging from his elbows as Hank undid his shirt. 

“God, you been teasing me on purpose?” Hank groaned. “Trying to kill me with how you fucking look at me.”

“Shut up.” Connor clawed at Hank again, desperately. “You almost fucking died. I can look at you however I want.”

“Oh, you want me to shut up?” Hank moved his hand from Connor’s hair to his mouth, covering it entirely. “I'm not talking about now. I'm talking about always. Those fuckin’ eyes of yours. Getting all in my fucking space with that expression on your face.”

Connor opened his mouth to argue, and Hank slid two of his fingers inside. A spark ran down Connor’s body, from his tongue to his cock. He moaned, shutting his eyes and pushing his head forward, closing his lips around those fingers.

“Good boy.” Hank’s voice was rough and the praise hit Connor hard. He sucked in, pulling Hank’s fingers as far into his mouth as they would come, and ran his tongue around them. They tasted of ash and salt and he took it in greedily. “That fucking mouth. You never shut it, do you?”

Hank’s other hand was fiddling with his belt, fingers catching at his waistband as he tried to force it open with impatient movements. Connor let him struggle; he wasn't going to help. Both of his hands were on Hank’s sides, pressing and digging into the heat of his skin and wishing not for the first time that he wasn't wearing all those layers. He scratched his nails not all that gently over Hank’s stomach, earning a deep, rough moan. And shit, if that wasn't the most beautiful sound. It had him salivating, cock twitching, pushing his thigh between Hank’s legs. 

Hank managed to get his belt undone and yanked it loose, fingers making far shorter work of the buttons of his pants. 

“This okay?” He asked, eyes on Connor’s mouth as he still so desperately sucked on his fingers. Connor nodded enthusiastically, too high on relief and the taste of Hank to give a shit about seeming eager. 

Hank grinned, rolling his hips against Connor’s leg. When Hank’s fingers slipped down beneath his underwear and brushed against his cock he gasped, mouth falling open, unable to pay as much attention to those fingers because fuck. 

“Holy shit, you’re soaking.” Hank grunted. His fingers were exploratory, palm on his cock as they teased over his hole. “Fuck. Do you want - I - fuck.” Hank gulped, blinking hard. “Do you want me to finger you, Connor?”

Connor shook his head. Fuck, the way those words had slipped out of Hank’s mouth. If he’d asked anything else, Connor would have been nodding harder than he’d ever in his life at risk of his already liquified brain splashing out his ears. And the way Hank said his name felt almost religious. The way his mouth opened on that first O, the glint of the red light on his tongue. 

Connor (very regretfully) let Hank’s fingers slip from his mouth, letting them trail their strands of saliva down his chin as they did. “Not inside. Everywhere else is okay.”

“Got it.” Hank affirmed, immediately moving his fingers to a gentle circle of Connor’s dick. “You tell me if you want me to stop touching you, alright?”

Connor licked his lips. “Yes sir.” He tested.

Hank’s eyes went dark. The hand Connor had relinquished his sucking of came to clutch at his hair, tugging him hard into a kiss. His other hand pressed harder in its circling, running his fingers around Connor’s cock without giving him any time to prepare for the cool, jagged pleasure that ran through him. Connor moaned loud, public place be damned. He kissed Hank desperately, begging with his teeth and his tongue for Hank to keep that up, to keep touching him like that. Telling him that he needed it. 

Hank was unabashedly grinding against his leg now, pushing as hard against his thigh as he did with his fingers. Connor’s leg faltered, lost its tension, and Hank broke away from the kiss. 

“Keep your leg there Connor.” He panted, eyes half closed.

“Yes sir.” 

Connor pushed his leg back to where it had been. He slid his hands around to Hank’s back, forcing the both of them into his pants to grab at Hank’s ass, ignoring how tight around his wrists the waistband was because when he did that Hank moaned into his mouth and he was close to losing his mind. And he hadn’t lost Hank. Hank was there and his heart was pounding and he was warm and alive and touching Connor and pushing that life into him. He had Hank - or Hank had him. They had each other, were completely at the mercy of each other. Hank was telling him what to do and hey, for once he didn’t care that he was acting like his boss. 

He broke away from the kiss and nuzzled his nose into Hank’s jaw, trying to convince him to move his head to the side without saying as much.

“God, you’re fuckin’ needy aren’t you?” Hank teased, breathing hard and still rubbing Connor’s cock with little mercy. He got the idea though, and did lean away, giving Connor full access to the side of his neck.

“I need you.” Connor grunted. He latched his mouth onto the skin and sucked hard, biting and kneading his teeth into the skin and enjoying the shocked whimpering he managed to suck out of Hank. “I nearly lost you, and I need you.”

“You’re a brat, too.” Hank swallowed. He pulled his hand out of Connor’s hair and moved it to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt in the middle and slipping his hand into it. “So demanding.”

“I’ve been told.” Connor grinned. He bit another mark into Hank’s neck, digging his teeth in hard. Though he was forced to break away to moan when Hank changed how he was touching him. Instead of circling his cock he held it between his thumb and two fingers and began to jerk him off in earnest, with fast, hard tugs and the slightest squeeze. Connor was melting. He knew he’d come soon, Hank was taking him apart every time he touched him.

“A brat who wants to mark me up huh, make me his?”

Connor’s eyes rolled back into his head when he nodded then, mouth falling open but not finding anything to take into it - Hank’s other hand was still on his chest, thumb rubbing against his nipple and sending odd, disconnected pleasure sweeping over him. 

“Well here’s the thing, Connor.” Hank growled. “I think you should be mine.” 

Connor whimpered and nodded more, pressing his thigh desperately against Hank as he fucked against it. When Hank leaned forward to bite at his neck Connor moved his head without being told. Hank was ruthless, sucking and nipping in ways that stung and pinched and ached but that felt so fucking good. 

Connor didn’t even realise that he’d started to speak, started to moan ‘sir’ over and over in foggy breaths into the air, but once he did he could hardly stop himself. He was close and he could feel the slippery mess that he’d made between his legs, and Hank had sped up his thrusting at Connor’s thigh and the way he tugged at Connor’s cock was building in his gut. 

“I’m close.” He whined. “Hank, I’m close.”

“Then come, Connor.” Hank bit down again, and that was it. What had been building came tumbling down, shooting through Connor’s body with force enough to make him stumble in his spot. He was groaning Hank’s name, head thrown back and eyes squeezed tightly shut. Hank’s hands kept stroking him through it, even after the waves of pleasure had subsided to just his extremities and his cock was oversensitive. Connor flinched away then and Hank got the message, pulling his hand out and using it to pull Connor’s leg back against him. Connor made no objection, pulled his hands out of Hank’s pants and wrapped his sluggish arms around his shoulders. Hank kissed him again hungrily, rubbing against Connor’s thigh like his life depended on it. He would break away from the kiss to grumble praise, call Connor good and perfect and ‘fucking hot, so fucking hot’. Connor moaned in return, cock twitching interestedly but definitely not ready to go a second time. He begged ‘please sir’ and told Hank he wanted him to come, wanted to make him come. And he did. Hank came kissing Connor messily and needily and perfectly.

They simply stood there for a while, Connor leaning against Hank, catching his breath and coming down from his high while his body slowly rebooted and learned how to hold its own weight.

And of course, the brutal reality that they were in the back alley of a sleazy bar hit when the cold did. Connor shivered and glanced to the door, which hadn’t moved once since they’d been out there.

“You worried about someone catchin’ us now?” Hank snorted, still resting on the wall. He had a debauched smirk on his lips, head tilted backwards as he looked down at Connor. 

“Not in the slightest.” Connor shrugged. “But we should probably leave before they do. It’s pretty obvious what we were doing.” 

“No shit. You look wrecked.” Hank snorted. Connor shivered again, but not from the cold. Hank pushed away from the wall and came to do up the buttons of Connor’s shirt. “Anyone could tell you’ve been fucked” 

“Are you trying to turn me on again?” 

“Hmph. No. But if it’s working then I guess I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Keep that in mind. Oh, so this could be a thing? Connor’s heart fluttered, cheeks turning pink more at that thought than the fact that he’d been screaming into the street for Hank to touch him moments ago. He could have this? He could have Hank? Not just for a one time thing, but for more?

He lifted his hand and ran his fingers over the marks he'd left on Hank’s neck. 

“That hurt, y’know.” 

“I have sharp teeth.” Connor murmured, not an apology. He wouldn't apologise for the marks, for how perfect and dark they were. 

“Yeah, apparently you do.” Hank’s hands reached the final button and he tugged Connor close to kiss him. It was rough, again, and Connor let himself get drunk on the moment, on the hormones and the kiss and the feeling of his collar pulled tight.


End file.
